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Kidnapped by the Northern stars,
Charred crimson scars

Retinas dream of the escapade,
Serenade me with this esplanade

Cascades, the queen of beauty,
Duchess, my death duty

Red roses presented,
Their thorns scented

Monochromatic bald eagles,
Spanish regal cathedrals

The acceptance letter from the dean,
Green from the Ivy League
Is it even possible to dream this much in one night? I think too much...
For our international readers:
The Ivy League is originally an American collegiate athletic conference that comprises of eight private universities in the northeastern region of the United States. Today the league signifies prestige, power, academics, etc. The following universities are part of the Ivy League conference: Brown, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, University of Pennsylvania, Princeton, and Yale. It happens to be that one of these universities is my dream school.
Anna Oct 7
Every other place is autumn,
But here, it's spring
And it feels just like winter,
I wish I could wake up in summer.
I wish I were richer
I wish I were smarter
Or in a better political situation
Send help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
The government cannot protect us
The government is too corrupt
The government keep making mistakes
Political parties in the country are killing farmers
Caucasian Farmers
Political parties in the country are promoting ****** of Caucasian men, woman and children.
Black Lives matter
What about the rest of us?
Don't we all belong as equals?
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa is falling
They're burning our buildings
They're burning the country
Our government prioritises money
Over the welfare of our people
One president to steal money and another to come
Send Help
Please Send Help
South Africa
Is Falling
Women are being *****. Children are being *****. Men are being murdered. The people of this country are going to begin an uprising. Send Help
Dante Rocío Aug 25
Que se lo cruza, que se lo llama,
del mar que viene pero él
que se queda,
y forma todas las playas
de verdades, turbulencias,
¡que sólo los barcos de dignidad
alcáncenlo, ellas!

Yes, surely I am deplored by
the beauty of destructions’ marking, holding dear
what’s longingly perverted
through the lost.
Ravens’ repulsing cries
are the needed on the shores,
not just on the autumn,
the rotting of the sea tales
their voices hold,
the selection of exquisite
that my preference twisted wants.
And so much else I daze over,
that overlay of the Emerald Land’s
waves and beats that
my distant to the south shore pleads,
that jade,
that shock,
that valiancy of the Scots
which in our sands
and crashing skies
should be,
to be.

The awaiting
for that dripping glory
in a mellowed casing of a wrecking ship,
it’s in a waiting room
made from a lone standing rock
that carries myths and ventures
to fulfill,
the Young Verter’s

Show up on our silver days
at the bays,
El Acantilado,
del Norte, caro,
The Cliff, The Cliff,
Ese Acantilado!
Presenting the longing yet sensing a fulfilment
At a sanded scorched but finally in the mist beach
Where I started calling for the British shores
To come to us,
To fill the southern water lands
With a valiant storytelling, storms and grandiosity
Ours seem to have not in calm relax.
Envisioning it.
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 20

As the pace of life slows
To protect my health
I sit here reflecting
For I can’t do much else

The global situation
On all our minds
Surreal as it is
The Earth is doing fine

I sit here listening
To the sounds of Soweto
Wondering if there’s anyone else
Like me.... locked down in Soweto

Luck it may have been
I consider myself lucky still
I wouldn’t want to be stuck anywhere else
What a story I now have to tell

There is hardship and struggle
Even for us every day
Yet there is also love... beauty...
Something so special to be here to “stay”

I’m no tourist
But still I feel unique
I wonder... is there anyone else?
Anyone else like me?

I feel I belong
I always have
But now this feelings deeper
I forget I’m not local infact!

It’s only when I sit here
And think, everything still
That I remember I’m different
Yet I’m treated like a local

I have become a Sowetan
And it didn’t start this year
It’s been happening slowly
The township adopted me, year after year

People are varied
Some are illegal
Yet, as written in the constitution
This country belongs to all

I love South Africa
But not all of it’s the same
It’s here in Soweto
Here - I got a new name

I don’t feel any different
To others around me
I have become one of them
But still wonder..... is there anyone else like me?

Getting stuck here was a blessing
How things fall into place!
Although no one anticipated COVID
Being in Soweto puts a smile on my face

I feel it’s almost sacred
To find myself here
During this global pandemic
I’ve been “protected “ it’s clear

I’m here for a reason
That has been proven to me
And whatever the reason
... it was just meant to be

I “belong “ here in Soweto
There IS no one like me
I am now a Sowetan
...just as it was “meant to be”

Ngiyabonga beautiful people **
Forgive me I’m new **
Ashley Kaye Aug 13
husks of air pass
the shelled yellow left in fields
lake water like a bath that once
washed worries away.

this dry that takes my throat,
I ask it to tickle my cheek,
caress my soul,
embody the years passing me by.

Be my keeper of gone days;
I will carry you in whims yet-to-be.
August 12, 2020
Oh beloved country
Why do I cry for you
I have been told this is not my home
But how can this be
When I was born on your very soil
Country of division
The cry of the wild
Can we not sing one song
Sing in unison
Like a dry, barren and cracked piece of earth
We long for rain
Hungry for peace
And a reign without prejudice
Where all men are equal
And we **** no more
The ground has seeped up all the spilt blood
It has kept record of every innocent life lost
Until one day it will offer up the dead
And every sword shall be held accountable
Written by Sean Achilleos 07 August 2020
Andrew Rueter Jun 12
I know Christians and sinners
misfits and winners
sprites and spinners who fed me my dinner
while we weathered the blizzard
of the grand wizard’s
****** trigger.

We watched in dismay
as Satan decided to stay
to beat the enslaved
and show them their grave.

Their white hoods brought fear
because they killed the queers
and those who chuck spears
we saw the Bible smeared
yet steered clear
because a black man’s teammate
was just as good to cremate
so we figured we’d leave fate
to those who only see hate.

Not our problem
was our solution
we let bigots call them
this world’s pollution
while we built an illusion
of a country of inclusion
yet punished any intrusion.

I saw
and didn’t help
just prayed to God
to avoid those welts
worrying about myself
the Bible went on the shelf.

I saw my brother murdered
yet stood still as a girder
knowing if I went any further
I’d feel the end of their burner.

I wanted to speak out
but there was nowhere to reach out
in America’s deep south
so we put up signs saying KEEP OUT.
Nomkhumbulwa Apr 28
It doesn't come as a surprise,
Of course life’s always a struggle;
But with Coronavirus too,
The struggle is only more real.

Suffering is not new,
Nor hunger, or poverty;
Yet more than ever
People now see the reality.

Coronavirus not the biggest risk,
yet its presence here is still deadly;
With an Economy crumbling to pieces,
We all wonder what will happen to this Country?

Though numbers are low,
Compared to the first World,
Collateral damage is devastating,
With the lockdown, the situation deteriorating.

We sit here, we wait,
Watch the news at nine,
For its impossible here
To be online all the time.

Some people are scared,
Some people don't care;
Or perhaps its more a case
Of being used to living in fear.

Queues are miles long,
Yet these people are lucky;
For many there is now dire hunger,
Food parcels not reaching the poor.

The Government is doing its best,
To limit the effects of this virus,
On the health of society,
But perhaps more, on the dying economy.

Inequalities are not new,
But now they are stark and real;
The rich minority at relative ease,
The rest of the Country diseased…

People die here all the time,
The health system stretched as it is;
So how do we tell these people,
They need to go hungry to live?

With untreated disease already a burden,
Coronavirus alone is not such a risk;
But what it does do
Is creates yet more poverty and sick.

People are trying to understand
What is happening in the World;
But for most the World is far…
That World is now affecting this World…

For us, neither rich or poor,
A rare case of “in the middle;,
We are able to grow vegetables,
Write music, get to the clinic.

We also watch in horror
At those suffering now even more,
For those in informal settlements,
Social distancing is just not possible.

People are going without,
Trying to live on one meal a day;
Or going to bed hungry,
Feeding their children instead, as they continue to pray.

People here live day by day,
Earning just enough to buy bread;
With this now taken away,
They’re desperate, and some are dead.

Not due to this virus,
But death still continues;
Beaten to death by the Army,
At home, with their families….

The situation here is dire,
This Country far from developed;
The poverty, the hunger, the desperate,
No water in taps in some districts.

The situation here is dire,
I cannot lie or pretend it’ll all be fine;
people are suffering all around me
And yet all I can do is …..stay at home.

I sit here writing this helpless,
Able to teach, if it was possible for those to learn;
I feel the desperation of parents,
Education in this land must go on.

But as for now
We are either “stopped in time”, or desperate;
How the schools will eventually cope
Is anyones guess.

People need food,
People need school,
people need help,
But…..people have not lost hope.

As for myself
I write, and I plan some more;
Hoping that one day soon,
I’ll be able to help a lot more….

Apologies im still new ;)
effie ebbtide Apr 20
replica of the statue of liberty, made of
concrete, a beacon for weary motorists
stranded on route 66, endlessly
drifting in the dusty abyss, stands in front of entrance
with her readymade torch.

she mumbles into a phone, then hands us a key.
a tiny room for breakfast goes unused
and the swimming pool is cloudy,
the concrete walls reverberating
empty chlorine
pleasantries, a watered down
hotspring dream.

above the headboard
is a long mirror, spanning
the length of the smoky room's
back wall, a silvery strip
reflecting faded yellow wallpaper
with subtle unspecified flowers.

the side exit leads to an empty lot, long
grass growing out of neglected potholes, a cyclone fence
blocking off a direct route to the sonic

the sky is orange, it's always been
orange, it always will be
orange, looming over distant mountains
with narcissistic strata.
travel poem on a place i visited three or so years ago
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